


on to me and all over me

by worth_the_risk



Series: could still be what you want to. [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Hospital, Overdose, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7472421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worth_the_risk/pseuds/worth_the_risk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Set me free, leave me be</em><br/>
<em>I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity</em><br/>
<em>Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be</em><br/>
<em>But you're on to me and all over me<br/>
<em> - gravity, sara bareilles</em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	on to me and all over me

_His mother tells him that her anxiety attacks feel like there's a hand around her heart, around her airway. Controlling her pulse and her breath and urging it on, cheering it too fast, until there’s a hummingbird in her chest and spots in her eyes. The world settles onto her shoulders and doesn't roll away until her breath slows and the hummingbird flies off to roost elsewhere. It's always been the opposite for him, like someone’s detonated tiny explosives in his chest and his heart is too big now, too scattered, to have any control. Before the bombed cells can do anything about regulating his pulse again, they have to reconstruct themselves from the bottom-up, artery by artery. Blind and shell-shocked. Everything and anything was too much. The slightest unexpected sound or movement could tip him over the edge from anxiety attack into full-blown panic, and then nothing but time could stop it. Until his prescription._

* * *

 He drifted, his body heavy and his mind floating. He was so, so tired but he couldn't make himself give in to the darkness rimming his peripheral vision. His eyes burned from crying and he still wouldn't close them. Something in him couldn't resign itself to it, his muscle memory refusing to surrender to the overpowering exhaustion. There was a knotty cramp in his lower back; the tension from his panic attacks always gave him charley horses. He could barely register that he should be feeling pain from it but wasn't. What a welcome change.

His phone was vibrating on the sink above him. He hazily registered the noise just as it stopped and started again. Shifting his hand to reach for it, he scattered the few blue tablets he'd missed across the floor. The skittering noise hit his eardrums in three waves, cold molasses. Everything was so thick, the air and sound like wet sand. His arm dropped back to the tile. The phone was still vibrating.  
  
He closed his eyes. The tile beneath him felt like a mattress, but also wasn't really there at all. He pressed his palm against it, flexing his fingers a few times and scraping the grout with his fingernails before the effort utterly drained him. The black rings edging around his vision were thickening. The fluorescent-lit bathroom seemed further away than it had a few moments ago, or was that hours ago? The tinny scratching sound of the phone against the porcelain was barely tickling around the shell of his ear now, his thinning and lazy heartbeat the loudest noise in his head. He was impatient for the phone to stop ringing, the light to go out. His feet were spinning around themselves, his toes tingling and burning. His heart skipped a beat.  
  
Like the shutter on a camera, the room went black, reappeared, then flickered in front of him. The white tiles were tinting hazy blue. His chest was _so_ tight and sore. He could feel his heartbeat stuttering away, but he couldn't hear it any longer. The room faded again, only a fraction of it coming back to him afterward, the fluorescent light softer somehow. Warmer. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, spinning slowly, or not at all. The light stopped pressing into his eyelids, and he finally slept.

 _X_ 

The light was weighing on his eyes again. He groaned, turning away from it. Odd, he'd been on his stomach before. He didn't remember rolling over, doubted that he could have. His stomach felt hollow and compacted, like it'd been vacuum sealed around a golf ball. His mouth was bone dry. He tried to lick his lips and it made no difference. Another quiet groan rolled out of him.  
  
Rubber soles padded out of the room. He tried and failed to keep track of the time that passed before they returned with another two pairs of shoes, more sneakers and a pair of heels.  
  
“Jack?” His mother sounded tear-worn and terrified. He shifted his hand toward her voice, and her delicate fingers laced themselves through his. “Oh, honey, thank _God_.”  
  
He kept his eyes closed, not ready to see the state he knew his mother was in. The doctor he assumed had followed the nurse back in pressed a few buttons above him and to the right.  
  
A pen scratched against paper. She checked Jack’s lazy reflexes, took his temperature, held his eyes open individually and checked the responsivity of his pupils, and shot something icy into his IV.  
  
“He needs to stay calm, but his vitals are just as solid as they've been all day. I've given him some vitamins and we should be able to try and get some real food in him within the next few hours.” She adjusted his IV and patted his free hand. “You're gonna be fine. I'll leave you two alone for a while. Remember, _calm_.”  
  
The door shut behind the doctor and Alicia buried her face in her son’s neck. “‘M sorry.” The guilt pummeling him while she cried into his shoulder was overwhelming. He was ashamed and disappointed. He'd failed to complete even the most basic of things on the human plane. He'd been born easily enough; dying shouldn't have been so hard to accomplish.  
  
“Darling no, _I'm_ sorry. I know you're good at hiding when you're struggling, but I didn't know it had gone this far. I'm sorry I wasn't paying close enough attention.” She kissed his shoulder, his cheek, his temple. The touches felt good, better than anyone touching him had in a long time. His mother’s love for him was uncomplicated and unconditional. In light of his relationship with his father, it was something he'd never taken for granted or forgotten. Until the last few months. “I love you, I'm not angry or disappointed. I'm thankful that you're going to be...that you made it.”

He didn't know how badly he'd needed to hear that until the tears were already pouring down his face. “Thank you, Maman.” He couldn't honestly answer ‘me, too,’ so he fell silent.  
  
“I’ve got to call your grandmother and tell her that you’re awake. Do you want me to do that here or in the hall?”  
  
“Don’t leave me,” he croaked, squeezing her hand.  
  
“Of course.” She paused, and he could hear her breath catch. Her phone was buzzing in her hand.  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“Kenny keeps calling me, darling. Do you want me to call him and tell him you’re alright?”  
  
The beeping emanating from Jack’s EKG sped up and he froze. “No. Just keep screening his calls.”  
  
“Alright.” Her tone was even and quiet and he loved her all the more for it. She dialed her mother and took a few deep breaths before she began quietly updating her on Jack’s condition. By the time she hung up, the beeping had slowed until he was staring at his normal resting 64 BPM on the monitor. Alicia’s Blackberry beeped; she glanced at it and squeezed her son’s hand. “Your father is in the hallway. Can he come in?”  
  
“Of course.” Jack frowned. He hated that he'd even felt the need to ask.  
  
The door cracked open. Bob stuck his head in before the rest of him followed. Planting himself at the foot of Jack’s bed, he surveyed all the machines surrounding his son with a lost look in his eyes. Jack let him drift for a handful of moments before weakly clearing his throat.  
  
“Hey, Papa.”  
  
Their eyes locked and Bob’s filled with tears. “Jack.” His mouth opened and closed a few times before he shook his head and strode forward, leaning down to wrap his son in a hug. Jack hesitated and patted his dad’s back.  
  
_“I love you so much.”_ His voice cracked on the last word and his arms tightened.  
  
Jack melted into Bob’s arms and fresh tears stung his eyes. _“I love you too, Papa. I'm sorry-”_  
  
_“No, son. You've got nothing to be sorry for.”_ Bob sat on the bed and tucked Jack’s head under his chin. Alicia caught his eye, crying too. He opened his arm closest to her and she climbed onto the bed and into the embrace.  
  
The EKG beeped steadily on.

**Author's Note:**

> anything in italics is in french. rather than butcher my translations, i chose to do this.


End file.
